Of Stupid Hipster Kids and Nervous Wrecks
by thatonecoolkid
Summary: In which a small angry Starbucks barista and a stupid hipster kid become friends and then some. DaveKat, rating could change later, probably not. Shortfic, three chappies at the most. There isn't enough Davekat in the world.


**This should be about a two shot, possibly three, very short.**

**Got the inspiration by the lovely artist Ryu, and I would throw a link but it doesn't work. Check em out at the url ryu-gemini on tumblr. **

**GO follow them! (Sorry Ryu, not sure of your pronouns!) **

**My lips are not glorious enough to own Homestuck, and the characters nor the AU are my idea.**

"What can I get you?" said the small boy behind the counter. He stood with his weight on one side, and he always looked sassy. The nervous man in the suit that was ordering took at least five minutes to look at the menu and see what he wanted.

"There any way you can hurry up. I've got 20 customers after you!" said the boy, obviously trying very hard not to lose his cool.

"O-ok, can I get a Double Tall, Nonfat, Half-Caf, Extra Hot Latte with Whipped Cream, Vanilla, Hazelnut, Almond, Raspberry, and Toffee Nut Syrup, Extra Foam, 2 packets of Sweet 'n' Low, 1 packet of Sugar, 1/2 pack of Equal, and Caramel Sauce?" said the man, looking down sheepishly because of his complicated order, which was obviously not for him.

The boy looked at the man with his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded for a moment.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to try and make that stupid fucking shit?! Who do you think I am the fucking god of Starbucks? Is that even something that is possible for someone to fit in a god damn cup?!" said the boy, his hands gripping the counter as if he was tempted to vault over and attack the man with his ridiculous order.

The man apparently grew a pair within the two seconds he was being yelled at, and straightened up.

"What is your name, kiddo?" he said in the most condescending voice he could muster.

"Hello, I have a nametag idiot!" yelled the boy, eyeing the line still growing behind the man.

"Okay _Karkat, _buddy. I'm gonna have to talk to your manager, little boy." said the man, looming down on Karkat.

"She isn't here. Call customer service later, I'm sure you can leave your shitty fucking complaint with them." Karkat said, "Now get the fuck outta here, and take your complicated ass shit with you, fuckhead."

The man huffed and headed out of the store, shoving the albino boy standing behind him out of the way before storming out the door, yelling curses. The blonde boy shook it off and walked up to the counter. He pulled his reflective aviators down his pale, freckled nose and peered with red eyes at the much smaller boy behind the counter.

"Hey Karkat. I'll have what that guy was having and a bucket for my puke for afterwards." The tall gawky boy said to Karkat.

"Not a chance, fuckwad. Same thing as always? What name do you want me to put there, "Insufferable Prick"?" The small boy said. He spoke with less venom and volume than he would have if he were really trying to offend the other boy. He was only able to meet the kid's eyes for a second before blushing and looking down.

"That's Dave Strider to you, babe, and yeah same as always." said Dave, fixing his shades so they were righted on his face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned at Karkat.

"I've told you a million fucking times, you useless excuse for a human being, to NOT CALL ME THAT." yelled Karkat, genuinely annoyed now. He hated pet names, and pet names by the stupid hipster in front of him were the worst kind. _The stupid, sexy hipster, _he corrected himself in his head. He realized he had already entered the drink into the register and that he was just standing there, staring at Dave like a lunatic. He shook his head vigorously, getting started on making the actual drink.

As he got started, the other barista took over the cash machine, getting the line moving faster while Karkat made the Strider kid's drink. Nepeta was the girl's name, and Karkat had known her for as long as he could remember. Her dad owned this store, and Nepeta managed it.

Karkat was about to be off in about 45 minutes, since he worked the night shift and it was eight in the morning. He didn't look it but he was getting ready to go back to college for his second year in the fall, and this was his second job, the first being as a busboy at the local diner. He finished Dave's drink and called him over to get it.

The blonde boy had been waiting just by the counter, knowing anything he said would be drowned out by the sound of the shitty coffee machine that hadn't been replaced in ages. Instead, he followed Karkat's movements with his eyes, making Karkat feel even more nervous than he usually did around the kid. Karkat only saw Dave for a few minutes every day to serve him his morning coffee, but it was enough to keep his insides twisted all day.

Karkat went to hand Dave his coffee but the taller boy clasped his hand over his, trapping him there with a surprisingly strong.

"What he fuck, asshole? Let go!" Karkat said, blushing hard. He didn't take his eyes off the blonde's hand, where he could see a bunch of small scars. When Dave didn't let go, his eyes slowly traveled up the red sleeve until he met Dave's eyes, or as close as he could get with those infernal sunglasses in the way.

Dave had a mischievous smirk on his lips, and didn't say anything.

"You want to maybe let go so I can get back to work?" asked Karkat, slightly annoyed. Nepeta was eyeing them concernedly from the other side of the counter, but Karkat glanced to her and shook his head imperceptibly. Nepeta shrugged and continued taking drink orders, which were incidentally piling up.

"You first, dude." replied Dave, deadpan.

"My hand is _under yours." _said Karkat, trying to pull his hand out. This only made Strider's hand grip harder, making it impossible for Karkat to move even a finger.

"Not my fault, babe. You should know by now that my left hand is my coffee holding hand." said Dave.

"Are you serious?" said Karkat, looking dumbfounded at Dave. His faced turned even redder when he realized he was almost holding the hipster kid's hand.

"Are you?" Dave replied.

"What the fuck do you want Strider?" said Karkat, stomping his foot in frustration.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll let go of your hand if you write your number on mine. That's the password, no girls allowed." said Dave, lowering his chin enough that Karkat could see the glint in his crimson eyes.

"I don't have a pen, jackass. The cup is all the way over there. I can't reach it." said Karkat, looking over at the cup a few feet to his left. In response, Dave reached forward and plucked the one off his apron he'd forgotten about. He dragged it up Karkat's throat, causing him to shiver, and placed it in his free hand. Karkat huffed and wrote it on the boy's hand, navigating the scars. As soon as it was written down, Dave let go and grabbed his coffee properly.

Karkat thought it was over, but with barely a blur, Strider's hand reached out and grabbed the back of his neck, pecking him on the lips and letting go. He grinned once more at Karkat's stunned face, lifted his coffee as if for a toast, and headed out the door.

Karkat stared, most of his brain trying to figure out what just happened, and just a small belligerent part of him hoped Strider would call soon.


End file.
